


15 Letters I Almost Sent You

by lwtzjm



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Chaptered, Death, Letters, M/M, idk what to tag this it's just really fuckin sad, smut free, there's just a lot of metaphors alright
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-01
Updated: 2014-10-26
Packaged: 2018-02-06 23:24:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1876446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lwtzjm/pseuds/lwtzjm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's hard to do anything without the goddamn love of your life beside you anymore</p><p>so Harry writes to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Letter One

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this for a very long time and I've been too nervous to post it. I'll try to update it every few days if it gets positive feedback. Enjoy loves xx
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer:  
> This work is purely fiction. I do not claim to know anyone associated to this story.

3-12-14

Dear Louis,

 

Everything fell apart that night, all at once. every ounce of stardust dropped from the universe and landed into one moment in time. Not that the stars in the sky wouldn't shine again, just my stars. 

There's an old saying, you know. "Everything that comes together falls apart. Humans fall apart because that's what happens." I believe this to be true, and I'm falling so fast now. Maybe one of these days I'll finally collide with earth on the exact moment we met and convince myself to cherish each and every fraction of time that we spent together. Everything that comes together falls apart. How do things come together? Fate? Luck? Whatever the case is, I'm glad we fell apart. If we hadn't fallen apart, that would mean we never truly came together. That's beautiful. 

It was all worth it, you know. All the headaches and the heartbreaks that led me to you, it was all worth it. The universe put in a lot of effort to put us together, that's beautiful. In order for us to have met, it required me convincing myself to get out of bed, wearing the exact same band shirt as you, going to get groceries, you also going to get groceries, you wearing the same shirt as I, and you noticing me and coming up to make some smartass comment. The chances of all of that happening were so so small. I often think what would happen if the day didn't play out exactly as it did. Where would I be? Definitely not here, at your funeral. 

There you are, laying just meters in front of me, but you aren't there. that's not you. I'm sorry for staring, I know you hate that. You're just so beautiful, but that's not you. The stars that made their home in your eyes are now resting in the sky. Even if it takes a lifetime, I promise I'll find them again. I'll find them and I'll wedge myself between you and the universe and we can once again be in love. 

And I love you. I love every last bit of skin that cling to your frame, every freckle that ever graced your beautiful body. I love the way your eyes crinkle up when you smile, even though I know you hate that. 

I can't quite seem to decide whether the past year mattered or not. I can't help but think every single 'I love you' has never mattered, because what's the use of it when you're dead. I'm sorry. 

I can see your little sister now. She looks like god has fallen through her finger tips. I wonder if she dreams about you like I do, even though we're both trying our damnest to forget. But the possibility of forgetting you is so slim, so minuscule that I can't even fathom a world without you. I suppose I'll have to, as they lower your body into the earth. Then you'll be gone. 

I'm sorry

You're just so beautiful.


	2. Letter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hard to do anything without the goddamn love of your life beside you anymore
> 
> so Harry writes to him.

3-31-14

Dear Louis,

 

I wrote a story about you today, you can read it if you want. Although, you make it home in the end, so you probably wouldn't like it. 

One of these days you will make it home, and I'll be waiting for you. You'll knock on my door and you'll explain to me that this was all a big joke, and I'll forgive you. And we will kiss for a millennium, until our tongues turn to stone and crumble. i love you. 

Oh god, I want to taste you again. I want to taste the booze from your drunken lips again. I know I said I hated it when you drank, but that's because I didn't understand. I get it now. Alcohol tastes like you. 

Hey I'd almost forgotten, I left my favorite pair of underwear at your house, can I go get them? I don't think your mother wants to see me, she told me I should stop writing to you. She said it's unhealthy, but I think it's nice, you know? I think it's nice.

Remember the last time I saw you? living anyway? I do. You climbed in through my bedroom window, all panda-eyed considering the fact that it was two in the morning. Our parents didn't like us seeing each other, like some over-used plot of cheesy 80's movies, and I'll never understand why. I noticed goosebumps on your arms, millions, just aching to touched and translated from braille. The trails on your skin spoke more to me than the reams and reams of half finished novels you'd leave lying all over the place. You were so beautiful. 

Oh god. No. You are beautiful. You are. You were. I'm sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad that some people are enjoying it (by enjoying I mean crying). Please let me know what you think, I appreciate it loads. 
> 
> Also. I'm on twitter: @zouisuidal


	3. Letter Three

4-7-14

Dear Louis,

My lungs are drowning in you now. I can think of nothing else but you. It's like the back of my eyelids are tattooed with your grace, and that's all I see when I close my eyes. It's like you're the apocalypse, except I am willing you to happen. 

I haven't slept in four days, which I suppose should bother me, but it doesn't, you know? Except I've never had so many bad nights. My mom thinks I'm not alright. Therapists keep trying to give me medicine to make me feel right. But I don't believe in that, especially not when there's a constant pain shooting through my mind; an aching bullet wound straight to my head. _Let it go, Harry._ That's what they keep telling me. 

Sometimes I write poetry about you on the internet. Strangers who have never met either of us send their condolences, as if it actually effects them. They tell me if they had the honor of loving me, we’d have sex three times a day and they’d scream my name when they came.  They think it's beautiful how broken I am, but they don't understand. 

When is this going to stop hurting? I'm dying to see you again. No. Not dying. I'm sorry. I just need to see you, I'm starting to forget. 

Oh god oh god oh god which hip was that cute little heart-shaped freckle on? I think it was your right. or maybe not. I'm sorry. I guess I never really payed that much attention, considering the number of hours we spent with our bodies intertwined, your birthmark was of the last things on my mind. 

But if I could redo the last year, I would take each and every moment to love you. I hadn't realized that you were going to be taken from me so easily. I'd never realized that you'd be gone. 

We had plans, remember? To finish high school together, open up a little record store, travel the world. You wanted to move to Vegas and I New York. We would've compromised. As long as at the end of the day our fingers wrapped in each other's, we were home. You were home. 

Now that you're gone, now it matters. I'm sorry.


	4. Letter Four

5-13-14

Dear Louis,

It's 4 am, I haven't slept and I can't stop loving you. I want you to imagine drowning, except you're in the middle of a desert. Your throat is dry and cracked but you can't stop longing for another gasp of air, but you just don't fucking die. That's what loving you feels like.

I don't really know what that means. Sometimes my hand makes up metaphors before my brain can understand them. 

It didn't start like this. Loving you used to feel nice. Like walks in the park on sunny afternoons, or like having my fingers curled around a warm cup of tea. It didn't feel at all like this. 

Instead of gentle waves lapping on the warm, sandy beach, you're a tsunami crashing into my body over and over and over again. But I take it. I keep on taking it and I don't know why.

Maybe it's because you were special. From the first time I saw you I knew, whether it was from the butterflies erupting in my stomach that never went away, even after all this time, or if it was from the number of hours I spent laying face down on my bed just thinking of you. We are soul mates. We are comets that crossed paths once in a lifetime, just barely brushing each other's skin before shooting off into the depressing emptiness of the universe again. We are two trees, branches touching in the wind. We wish we could get closer. You've fallen over, crashing down farther away from me. Maybe if I fall over too, we can touch again. Why do I love you as much as i do. more than I should. I'm sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This letter is really short! I'll probably update the next letter sooner just because of how short this one is.


	5. Letter Five

6-11-14

Dear Lou,

Hospitals are sad. I think they try to hide it with nicely colored walls and yummy food, but it's just a smiling mask with a frown underneath. 

I'm lonely. I'm so fucking lonely without you here. I'm a hollow shell, cracking with every movement, and with each sympathetic smile or "im sorry for your loss" I get, another shard of me crumbles and falls do god-knows-where. Everything hurts. 

I'm going to tell you a story. it starts with your mom's ford fusion, and I hope you know exactly what I'm talking about. It's always bothered me that I've never known what happened from your point of view, what was going through your mind so I decided to share with you mine. 

It was our four month anniversary, do you remember? We went stargazing because there's nothing to do in this damn washed up town. It was close to 1 in the morning but we didn't want to go home. We talked about the universe and we talked about our lives and we laughed and we cried together and we just _talked_. Remember what you did? You kissed me in the front seat of the car, and all of the stars didn't matter except the ones in your eyes. That's when I'd noticed the gleaming beacon on the bright blue sea for the first time. Right in that moment ten million sparks exploded in my stomach lighting the fire that I'd soon find could never be stopped. Then you told me the first of many after. You told me you loved me. 

Those three words that made everything beautiful, the same three words that destroyed me. Three simple words that caused a fucking hurricane inside of me. 

I can't believe you've been gone for three months now. It feels like somewhere between a millennium and an hour since the last time we kissed, and I'm sill trying to find out how that's possible. I haven't touched anyone in so long. That's not meant in a sexual way, of course, but everyone I see is afraid. Afraid that if they get too close, they might die too. Maybe it's good I don't get too close to anything really, I don't want to do this all again. 

Sometimes I get angry, that it's you in the ground and not me. It would make things a lot easier. You were beautiful and bright and funny and clever and beautiful. You deserve the entire world and more than that. The universe fucked you over. It should have been me. 

Maybe I don't miss you, maybe I never even needed you in the first place. 

I loved you too. I still do. 

I'm sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's reeaally late but it's here! I rewrote it several times and put a lot of emotion into this chapter.


	6. Letter Six

7-3-14

Dear Louis,

Last weekend I went to visit our garden and I couldn't stop thinking of you (but what else is new.) Although, it was funny. All that we'd planted had died, of course, but it had been replaced by new life. Wildflowers, weeds, and grasses sprung up from the Earth but, no, nothing we'd planted. Isn't that funny? 

I feel like that should be a metaphor. After you died, I should've found someone else. I should've filled the holes with something new. I guess that's not how it works though, because I still love you. 

I don't think it's stopped. Right after you died I would tell myself, "you can't love him anymore, you're in two separate universes"

I lied. My heart still bleeds, thanks to you. 

I keep forgetting to eat recently. I'll kind of just numbly go through the days and then realize that I haven't eaten in three days. Why do you do that to me? 

I was always a weird kid, you know. I don't mean the kind that ate bugs or anything, but much deeper than that. I love everything. I fall hard and I shatter upon impact no matter the surface. I never thought I'd need someone as much as I need you. You'd became my crutch, and I shouldn't have let you. You became the only window to everything good in my small four walls. It doesn't take a genius to see how this is problematic, but I never thought you'd be so so far away. I thought that I was going to spend an eternity in your arms, then turn to dust, but still in your arms. If I could send the whole world a message, I would tell them that everything is temporary. They call it "falling" in love for a reason. Eventually you're going to land seeming thousands of miles from where you fell from, and it's going to hurt. 

You know those dumb depression commercials where they show some women and there’s a black cloud following her around and it gets bigger and bigger and swallows her whole until she finally takes some fucking medication? You’re my cloud. You’re hanging over my head and swallowing me whole but pills won’t make you go away, trust me, I’ve tried. It'll come some day, I hope. I was talking about you to my dad earlier today and all he had to say was "you're still hung up on him?" and I decided that I did not like that expression, because you're a person, not a coat rack. 

Unless being six feet underground makes you not a person anymore. 

I'm sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another late and too-short chapter, I'm sorry!


	7. Letter 7

8-29-14

For Louis,

 

I think the only thing that hurts worse than knowing that you're gone is how I can never learn more about you. I don't even know what I know anymore, so I've made a list:   
•I know that you stop washing you're hair if it's grown too long.   
•I know that whenever you get anxious you bite your knuckles and wring your hands.   
•I know that Tuesday is your least favorite day of the week (even though I don't know why that is.)   
•I know that shivers fall down your back when I trace shapes on it with my fingers, the same shivers you felt when we first kissed.  
•I know your drowsy eyes and your sleepy laugh.   
•I know you drink your tea without sugar because you think you're posh as hell.  
•I know that face you pull every time I made a bad joke. 

But I'll never know what we would've named our kids. I'll never know if we'll be one of those couples that shows up at their high school reunion and everyone goes "they're STILL together?" 

There's just so many small things that I won't ever get to know, no one will. Death takes so many things besides life, and it's hard to notice if you don't look close enough. 

But I don't like to think of you as dead, not really, just somewhere else. Wherever it is, I hope it's beautiful and nice and lovely. You deserve that at least; you deserve nice and lovely. This world wasn't good to you, or maybe you were too good for it. I don't know. 

I know you said you didn't believe in heaven, but I hope you do now. I hope we find each other again. 

Do you like these letters I'm writing? I know I talk about you a lot, and I know you hate that. Should I talk about me? 

I've been trying to get better, I really have. I've been trying to laugh again. 

I got together with some new friends last night, ones who didn't know you, that don't even know what happened. It was really, really nice being around people who didn't give sympathetic glances every now and then to make sure that I know they're sorry. I'm still the same person, right?

Gemma came home last weekend for the second time since you left. She told me that I'm looking better, whatever that means. 

It finally stopped raining yesterday after we had a downpour that lasted nearly a week. The sun felt so nice today, I haven't even known I'd missed it so much. 

I only broke down in public three times this week thinking of you. It was in the library, at the grocery store, and the bakery by my house. It sucks, because I can't go anywhere we went without thinking of you, but I can't stay in my bed because you were there too. I can't leave it all behind though, I can't just forget you. 

It sucks we're not soul mates, because if I didn't know better I'd say we were. 

I'm sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so so sorry I haven't updated in awhile and that this chapter kinda sucks. it got really hard for me to write this but I'm trying to get back at it. I would appreciate it so much if you left feedback!

**Author's Note:**

> Like I said, I think im only going to update if I know people like this. It would mean a whole lot to me if you left feedback!


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